


At the end of the song

by TariTheNurse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Eventually smutfest, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-27 07:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15680610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TariTheNurse/pseuds/TariTheNurse
Summary: "Riley's seen all sorts of people come and go at the karaoke bar where she works, and still she's never been in a rush to bring anyone home with her...until one night."





	1. Superstition

Riley’d seen him before at the bar where she works. The very first time, he’d come together with some of his friends, so there was no way she couldn’t know who he was and what he did for a living. Sam freaking Wilson. Had she been starstruck while serving him, Bucky Barnes, and Steven Rogers beers and shots? Probably…actually scratch that…of course she’d been in awe! Just like Rick, her colleague. But work’s work and she wasn’t gonna make a fool out of herself like all the other girls in the joint. Either way, the trio had sort of kept to themselves at a corner booth while chatting and listening to the optimistic (sometimes even talented) karaoke-singers so she didn’t have to worry much about them, except when serving them one round after the other.

Some karaoke places are fancy with digital systems to order and pay for songs in whichever key you want and there’s a full-sized stage with perfect spot light and all. Not this place. There are build-in tablets at strategic spots, but it’s only for finding the song and it’s ID…sometimes there are several entries for the same song each with their own key to accommodate higher or lower pitched singers. The mic (or mics, really…there are two) is standing on a small podium only wide enough to fit two people comfortably. So yeah, Riley’s work place is not on the top of the list for those who want to get spotted by talent scouts, but the atmosphere is always great and people are almost always supportive. The only faux pas is if you don’t sing so you can be heard.

…   …

They’re back the following weekend, early enough to pick seats at bar counter which seems counter intuitive, but hey…it’s supposedly a free country. So, Riley serves them and because of where they’re sitting she even chats a bit with them – just casual things about the place, the music, getting to be anonymous once in a while. They’re nice, down to earth kind of guys and she finds herself laughing at Wilson’s jokes and stealing glances towards him to catch a glimmer of that smile of his. It doesn’t take much coercion by her and the two other heroes before he’s looking through the list of songs.

“How ‘bout a duet?” Rick’s head suddenly appears by her shoulder. “Riley here’s got a great voice, I’m sure she can give you a run for the money.”

“Hey! Go sell some drinks, y’ass.” She pushes him a bit to get him away, all too aware that her cheeks are burning. “Sorry ‘bout that…”

Wilson’s looking down at tablet lying between them, making it hard to see his face, but she could swear he’s fighting back a smile. “No worry, baby, I ain’t gonna push you.”

Pointing at the titles, he picks a tune for himself before returning his attention to his friends and they move off to a table that has been freed. _Superstition._ Not a bad choice, actually. Plotting the numbers into the machine, she feels a prickling sensation on her back and calves and she glances around to find her dumbass busybody of a colleague waiting for her.

Wilson comes over for another round once and a bit later Rogers comes up to exchange a few words about dream job and if someone’s waiting for her at home. Riley can’t quite put the finger on it, but it almost feels like there’s not enough time between his question…as if it’s an interrogation, and he hurries back to the table as soon as he’s run out of things to ask. Of course, it doesn’t go undetected by Rick who claims that it’s a perfect example of a wingman’s job well done. _Wingman…as if any of those guys would need that._

Things aren’t slowing down yet and plenty of people have wanted to do shots with the bartenders, so Riley’s feeling a comfortable buzz by the time the heads up for ‘Superstition’ appears on the screens. It’s perfect timing. Two of Riley’s friends and colleagues have just shown up, allowing for her to withdraw for a few seconds to the back room. Quickly, she ditches the apron and the polo with the bar’s logo, leaving her instead with a tight tank top over the short skirt, and with a few adept moves in front of the mirror guarantees a fresh coat of lipstick to draw the attention away from the messy hair that she now lets loose. Rick would kill her if she returned with the sneakers on, so she digs out the heels from her bag and grows by three inches.

Coming back out into the noise of chatting (more like yelling to be heard) and music, Riley angles around to the side of the counter that equals freedom, only pausing on the way to grab the drink she’s been nursing. There’s a logical warning in her head, telling her not to look over at Wilson’s table…so of course that’s exactly what she does. _I’m an idiot._ Of course, the masterpiece of a guy has noticed and he’s waving her over with that dazzling smile that shows off the cute gap between his teeth. Her knees feel like jelly. Her stomach has been invaded by a billion hyperactive butterflies. And by the time she’s at the heroes’ table, it’s only pure stubbornness that keeps her from walking away immediately.

“What’s wi’the change of outfit?” The dark eyes are roaming the length of her body in a split second before gluing themselves to her face. “You off?”

“Yeah but decided to hang around ‘n witness your show.”

His friends fist bump discreetly and teases the poor guy about not getting nervous about performance issues. Waving them off, Wilson doesn’t seem bothered by their jabs and he gets on his feet, ready to wow them all. As the previous song ends, he takes over the spot at the microphone and already the happily drunk audience is cheering for him as if he’s a star. _Well…he is._ His smooth confidence would win half the ladies and some of the men over on his side even if he wasn’t a superhero; top that with good looks and a good reputation as a soldier and Avenger?

“Y’know…” Rogers begins with a sparkle in his bright eyes, “he’s the one that wanted to come back here.”

 _Wingman._ It does seem like Rick’s right. The music has started the compelling beat that makes Sam sway, illustrating the rhythm with slight rolls of his hips and shoulders that sends Riley’s thoughts down the gutter.

“Well, Rogers. We’ll just have to see if we’ll let him back again.”

The men want her to use their first names as they try to keep a conversation going, but the voice of that man is like chili caramel. Warm, soft enough to fold around the woman, but with a layer of power that kicks the legs out from under her, making her deaf to anything else. He knows it, she realizes as their eyes meet and the cocky smirk makes his lips purse. _Play it cool._ Getting up, she lets the music and his voice lead her onto the narrow dancefloor, allows her body to follow his sway in a tiny universe that has flowered into existence with the twin galaxies, that are the two of them, in the centre.

By the time he finishes the song, she’s dancing right before him and Sam can’t take his eyes of her shape. The hips that tilt at each beat and weave through the air seductively, the breasts that rise and fall as a result of the movements having made her short of breath. The last note is drowned in the applause for the hero’s performance, but he doesn’t care. Without bowing or in any other way acknowledging the success of his performance, Sam steps off the podium to stand inches from Riley. _That’s very close._ She can smell his cologne and beer, neither enough to hide the natural musky scent that’s turning her brain into mush and sending her thoughts down a track they don’t belong.

“So, you can fly _and_ sing, Wilson –“

“Call me Sam.”

She nods absentmindedly while watching his hand reach out for her hip, gently guiding her into a swaying rhythm that fits the new song. Moving in near perfect synchronicity, Riley has to fight her instincts to let guide his hands to roam her body. A reprimanding voice echoes in her head, reminding her that nothing good will come from getting attached to a man like Sam Wilson, a.k.a. the Avenger Falcon...and if she continues like this then she’ll fall for him completely, so the moment the song finishes, the woman says goodnight and hightails it out of there.


	2. A man's, man's, man's world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley is not one to ignore a challenge even if no one knows what the prize for winning is.

Rick has been intolerable the entire week, poking fun at Riley, and she’s told him to stick it where the sun won’t shine because of course there’s nothing going on…and since that night, she’s tried to bash away the hope that they (or at least Sam) will come back.

Through the speakers, a bachelor party’s distorted notes that should resemble ‘My way’ (but doesn’t) are adding to the noise of the crowded bar, making it hard for Riley to hear the orders that continuously are being shouted over the counter. Plotting in a new number in the music queue, she turns to serve the next customer in line and is met by a familiar and dazzling smile.

“Hey there, gorgeous.”

The button-up shirt is hanging lose around his torso wrapped underneath in a tight t-shirt that’s hinting at an impressive physique. Stealing herself with a deep breath, she hopes he can’t see how her heartrate has spiked.

“Hiya, Sam. Three beers?”

“Yeah…oh and…one more thing…” his smile grows crooked, confident, and accentuates his cheek bones, “…your name? I mean…you know who I am…”

Rick had revealed it the last time the trio stopped by, but maybe it had disappeared in the noise and alcohol. It’s not a demand, just a simple suggestion, but she still has to steady remind herself to relax as she hands over the cold drinks. “Riley. My name’s Riley.”

A shadow glazes Wilson’s eyes for a second, gone before she can identify it, and he hurries off to his friends without further talk. _I probably imagined that._ Whatever it was, there’s no time to think about it with all the people crowding the bar for their turn. It’ll be a long night and she’s happy her shift will end early at least.

…

The bachelor party has moved on together with a bunch of the irregular guests, which means the wait time on the music is down to only half an hour. As bartenders at a karaoke bar, Riley and her colleagues are encouraged to do a number now and then even if none of them are hired for their voices; as their boss puts it: “ _it’s about putting on a show”._ Sipping on a gin-n-juice during a needed lull in the work, she scans the song list for any ideas in case she decides to hog the microphone for once.

“Which one’re you goin’ for?” The warm voice has adopted a slight slur but is still as charming as before.

Meeting Sam’s eyes in the mirror behind the shelving, she manages to hide the surprise that he’s still cradling a half full beer. The last few rounds had been on Bucky who’d been polite enough (just not as open as the other two men) and she honestly had started to worry that she’d scared Sam away.

“My go-to is always ‘Fever’…but maybe I should pick something else.” Turning around, she hands him the tablet. “Anything that’s kinda deep for a woman. Any suggestions?”

He comes up empty, saying that she should pick something that makes her feel good, then he returns to Steve and Bucky who are sitting at a table off to the side. Skirting past her on his way to the PC, Rick nudges her in the ribs with a grin that means trouble and she knows that he’ll be trying to sell her out as single and whatnot if she’s not careful.

“Now you’ve _gotta_ sing something,” his eyebrows are doing the jig in excitement, “like a ballad!”

There’s no way she’ll do that, and he should know it. When has she ever done ballads because someone expected it? Never. It’s so typical of Rick actually, but she’s not going to follow his plan and lie down in front of the first guy that smiles at her. No, chicks should know their worth. Riley’s fingertips tap away quickly on the device until she’s found what she’s looking for and adds the ID to the list. Judging by the queue of entries, she’ll be on just as her shift ends.

…

Time moves quickly when you’re busy. Add a touch of nervous anticipation and then time really flies! The situation plays out like déjà vu, except that Rick has done his best to get allies, ensuring that all of Riley’s colleagues on work tonight are ushering her to the backroom to get fancied up adding to the nerves by ordering her to use the ‘back-up’.

The ‘back-up’ is a silly tradition, really. It had all started a few years ago when Mel hooked up with a guy she’d had the hots on for months and she was wearing this articular dress. The dark red, figure hugging fabric running to the knees with a high slit trying to reach the plunging back. Not even a month later, when Jenny borrowed it, either luck or Cupid struck again. It only took a couple of rounds of drinks before a theory had been formulated and the dress had been deemed collective property.

Has the ‘back-up’ worked each time? Only if one-night stands count, and Riley isn’t even superstitious enough to entertain the idea that it might work. _Work? I don’t WANT it to work!_ Stealing one last look in the chipped mirror doesn’t help convince her, because someone who doesn’t care wouldn’t be trying so hard to look their best for the sake of someone else. At least not Sam Friggin’ Wilson. That man’s a charmer, working his way into Riley’s thoughts at the most inconvenient times to release a flock of butterflies that send warm shivers from her belly out into the furthest corners of her body. Groaning softly, the woman shakes the goofy smile off the face before heading back past the bar (only grabbing a cold one on the way).

Leaning on the elbows on the high counter, she does her best not to use the mirror behind the bottles of booze to spy on the three heroes, but she can feel his stare on her back and her co-workers are smirking non-stop. For a fleeting moment, Riley locks eyes with Sam in the mirror. _Don’t come over._ The nerves are clinging to the outside of her clothes, and she just wouldn’t be able to talk coherently right now. Thankfully, a group of fangirls swoop in on the trio, blocking the view and path from their table to the bar.

…

Sam should be used to the groups of fans surrounding almost any ember of the Avengers at the most inconvenient times, but he still can’t see to wrap his head around it. Sure, he’d never been shy. In fact, he’s always been good with other people and has been able to hook a fair number of ladies with nothing else than a smile and some smooth-talking…but even with Steve being the main attraction, this is still too much. Glancing at Bucky, he can see the old man squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Poor guy. As shy as Steve is or as overwhelmed as Sam feels, the former Winter Soldier is still battling the results of all the years he wasn’t in control.

“Okaaay, ladies!” Sam gets up, adopting a wide stance to kind of shield his awkward friends. “Give the guys a break. We all love your support, but these fellas been workin’ hard.”

The chicks pout and try to convince him otherwise, only giving up when Steve arches an eyebrow at them. It’s enough to send them giggling like school kids, but at least they do it somewhere else. While a new song begins to play, the former airman watches a few of them as they break away from the group and aim for the bar instead, expecting to see the back of Riley and her messy hair. _She left?!_ There was so much more Sam wanted to say to her before the night was over.

_This is a man's world, this is a man's world…_

Looking everywhere, he doesn’t have time to pay attention to the new singer, a woman, who’s being cheered on. There’s no sign of Riley, not even at the boisterous table with what might be friends of the bartenders.

_But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl._

The voice is smokey, making the audience sway to the quivering warbles already.

“Sam…” Whatever Steve’s got to say, it doesn’t matter right now, so Sam shoves the friend’s hand off. “No, listen Sam!”

Finally glancing at the two buddies, his sensation of abandonment is disturbed by their inconsiderate grins and teasing nods towards something behind him. Finally paying attention to the voice, Sam feels spellbound, drawn to fall into the warm embrace of the tones that carry an edge he recognizes with surprise.

_You see, man made the cars to take us over the road._   
_Man made the train to carry the heavy load…_

There she is. Eyes half closed below the shock of untamed hair. The hips tracing impossibly slow figure-eights, accentuating the farthest point with a lazy bob that rolls both up and down her body from the hip. With one hand, she’s holding on to the microphone that’s resting in the holder which is bolted to the floor; the other is dancing through the air, effortlessly underlining the meaning of the words.

Sam’s feet are carrying him out onto the dancefloor, when she reaches the chorus.

_This is a man's, man's, man's world,  
But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl…_

Maybe Riley had been keeping taps on him, the man simply doesn’t know, he just suddenly finds himself nailed to the spot, unable to move any further the moment her gaze locks onto him without warning. There’s soul in those shiny orbs of hers. Soul, history and a teasing glimmer that lets him know that this song translates to the way she sees herself. She won’t accept being ignored or belittled. She knows her worth and nothing anyone can do, will make her give it up.

_…without a woman or a girl_  
_He's lost in the wilderness,_  
 _He's lost in bitterness, he's lost in the loneliness._

A part inside Sam has shifted in an effort to accommodate a need that’s been growing for days. It’s a corner of his soul that has recognized what has been missing. A few weeks ago, he’d have said nothing was missing, that he wasn’t lost, but now he can see the light guiding him home. _Man…I’m going soft._ But he doesn’t care as Riley relinquishes the low podium to a greasy-haired guy and strides towards Sam.


	3. R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't let affection lead to infection.  
> Sorry, not sorry.

“Wanna get outta here?” Sam’s lips ghost the shell of her ear, sending a new cascade of shivers down Riley’s spine.

Agreeing, they leave her colleagues and the wannabe paparazzi behind. Sam’s friends have come along, of course, but are keeping a polite distance even if both guys seem too amused by the situation. Particularly Bucky is being shushed repeatedly by an increasingly exasperated captain, and Riley’s happy when they get to a different bar. The music spilling out each time the door opens is loud and mixed with the happy slurring from drunk people. Posters along the outside wall announce that a new up-n-coming DJ is playing tonight which, judging be the long line, must have been a good choice. Like any other night out, Riley takes her spot at the end of the line, hoping with all her might that it’ll move quickly. She’s unprepared from the raucous laughter the Avengers react with.

“No need for that, babe,” Sam’s smile makes her knees weak, “you’re with us.”

Taking his arm, she follows them past the waiting people, trying to ignore the stares, and into the noise of the club with nothing but a friendly nod at the doorman. Unlike Sam and Bucky, Steve looks painfully out of place. _I wonder why?_ There’s no time to ask him before the man with the metal arm has spotted a cozy booth and is guiding them past the packed dancefloor…or trying to: they’re halfway when Sam discreetly pulls his impromptu date in among the writhing bodies, claiming a few square feet for the two of them.

_Damn, he can move!_ Passing each rolling movement effortlessly on to Riley, he effortlessly guides their bodies closer until they somehow always are touching. A warm hand is gliding from her lower back until it rests between her shoulder blades and supports her safely when he dips her, following so their chests are only a few inches apart and Sam’s breath is fanning across her throat. His other hand is making its way in the other direction and lingers a second on her ass before it comes to rest on her thigh, fingertips on the bare skin exposed by the slit in the skirt as either she wraps the leg around his hip or he lifts it to rest there. She can’t tell which it is.  
Some events last too long. Some not long enough. Dancing with Sam is exempt from time and takes place in a vacuum where it’s only the two of them present enveloped in the music until that too leaves them in each others’ embrace, lips locked, and tongues tangled.

“Are ya gonna get a room or some drinks?”

The smokey voice startles Riley, and when she looks around she’s met by a cheeky smile belonging to Bucky who’s already carrying a tray with shots and beers. Of course, the longhaired man’s shit-eating grin grows when he notices how Sam rolls his eyes.

…

The elevator-ride up the tall Stark Tower doesn’t take as long as expected. Perhaps it’s because Steve has gotten to a point where he giggles at things - especially the glowing buttons and Bucky’s too busy keeping his buddy steady to be bothered with the others. It takes a LOT of shots to get either of the WW2 veterans drunk, but it had helped when Sam spiked their drinks with something from a flask he’d brought along…and it had been worth the sneakiness. Standing a hair’s breadth apart, it’s all Sam and Riley can do to stick to only holding hands and the occasional granny-kiss.

A digital voice announces the arrival at the level with the “visitors’ apartments”, which is the cue for all of them to abandon the elevator. Bucky and Steve head off down the hall in the opposite direction of where Sam’s leading Riley. Already pulling her closer, the hero’s mouth is surging to hers, gently tugging at her lower lip with his teeth before tracing the jawline with slobby kisses and licks. The cool wall braces Riley and combines new shivers with those the charmer has started as his hands start roaming her body through the thin fabric of the dress. When his lips and teeth latch on greedily at the crook of her neck, Sam’s pelvis begins a slow grind against her hip and she can feel the hardness of his cock. After hoisting the skirt up a bit, it’s possible for Riley to pull him even closer by wrapping a leg behind him and pulling at the lose button-up. Two second later, the master of her cravings has lifted her to wrap both legs around his waist and his fingers are digging into the flesh of her ass, pinching slightly and making her more sensitive to each thrusting graze of his erection against her damp panties.

“Bed. Now.” Riley’s intention is to sound commanding, but the words come out as a plea.

Pulling her flush against him, Sam doesn’t have to look to know where he’s going, devoting instead his attention to the breasts even if they’re still neatly covered. She’s vaguely aware of the break in momentum before passing through a doorframe. She hears it slam shut by the time she lands on the soft mattress, bouncing slightly before she’s pinned down by Sam’s lean body. Her hands move fast, and he wiggles his shoulders to ease the removal of the blouse before getting up on his knees to pull the tight t-shirt off over his head. _Damn._ He’s not pumped, but still muscular. _Toned. That’s what he is._ Fingertips dance across his pecs and abs before zoning in on the belt. That damn thing has to go, it’s already left a red, sore streak on her inner thigh. Sam lets her work the buckle, his own attention completely on the woman beneath her.

“Babe, you’re in for a treat.” An audible sigh escapes him when the pants are unzipped, creating a few inches more space for the cock.

Riley pulls him down and wraps her arms around him, sliding a hand underneath the rough fabric of the jeans and the elastane cotton of the boxers to grab a perfectly shaped ass-cheek. “I’m counting on it, hero.”

Working the nightlife and having grown up with brothers, she’s made sure to learn a couple of tricks, just to stay safe. One of those comes in handy now as she proves her own physicality by flipping them both over before scampering backwards, pulling Sam’s pants along. Standing at the foot of the bed, the view is nearly impeccable. Turning, she unzips the short zipper stretching from the lower back of the dress to a point under her buttock, then she slips the shoulders free and lets the dress fall to the floor, leaving her in nothing but the low-slung undies and the heels.

“Daymn, lady.” The rustling of sheet indicates that Sam’s getting closer. “You’ve got to be some sort of miracle.”

Large, warm hands caress the skin of her hips, trace the dip between ass-cheek and thigh until a finger rests against her intimate folds hidden beneath the laces of her undies. Riley knows that he must be able to feel the dampness. Stepping forward and out of his reach, she kicks the ‘backup’ out of the way before stepping out of the shoes.

“Lie down.” She still hasn’t turned around to face him, but watches over the shoulder as he obeys, a wide grin splits his face and his eyes are dark with lust. “Boxers off.”

Again, he obeys, apologizing with a shrug as his cock stands to attention in its full length. “Don’t worry, babe, I got ya.”

_Oh, not yet but you will._ She turns, smirking at the awe in his stare, and slides off the thin fabric that had been shielding her crotch from view. The slick between her folds dripples to her inner thigh each time she moves closer on all four across the bed until she’s straddling Sam, kissing and biting on the way. The tip of his cock is smearing pre-cum across her belly as she digs her nails into his shoulders in response to the kneading and massaging he’s exposing any part of her body he can reach. Breasts, ass, hips, waist. Small pinches to her nipples makes them perk and builds up the heat between her legs. As if knowing what the stuttering breath means, nimble fingers run between the folds and tease the sensitive clit, making her moan. Sometimes he slips a finger or two past the entrance, searching for a g-spot before returning to his attention to building up a raging storm, begging to be released.

“So…clo-ose…” Riley’s gasping, her own hand stroking the length of his cock firm and slow.

The smile is palpable when he kisses her neck. “Then do it. Let loose.”

She rides out the first orgasm in his hand, his fingers prolong it by adding pressure to the little bundle of nerves and by teasing the entrance to her core. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the woman is aware that she should be moving her own hand. She should reciprocate. But her thoughts turn to fuzz while she arches her back in pleasure.

…

Riley has collapsed on him, her hot breath fanning his collarbone and shivers still spreading in waves from her pelvis and out to every single part of her body. It’d been intoxicating to see her fall apart like that before Sam’s very own eyes. This woman was music in human shape…and he got to coax out the sweetest tunes. His fingertips on the free hand are dancing along her spine, making her purr in delight.

“Not bad.” Tilting her head, she smirks at him. “You’ve got some skills, mister.”

Pulling away from his lust-coated hand, she lifts it to her lips and kisses the fingers. Gently, yet hungrily, her tongue snakes out, lapping up the juices and sometimes giving way to a seductive suck where Riley takes each finger fully inside her mouth like a promise of more. She’s at the longest digit when she palms his balls, rolling the sac on her own fingers before stroking the length of the underside. A hum escapes him and it’s all he can do not to wrap his hand around hers to show how he likes it. _With a squeeze and a oh yeah!_ The woman probably can’t read minds, but she’s done exactly what he likes, by twisting and squeezing at the head, creating sweet friction on the frenulum. He groans when she does it again.

A popping sound of his pinky leaving her mouth seems far away. “Hmmm, I though to.”

The breath is burning against the sensitive skin and the long lick from root to tip that follows does nothing to cool it. Plump lips surround the member, creating a vacuum seal that increases each time she drags his length out, and the flexible tongue whirls around to stroke throbbing veins and the crown of the head. Sam’s fingers are digging into the soft curls, careful not to push her. _Fuck, that’s deep._ He can feel how his balls tense, how the warning ripples through his cock and thighs.

Pulling back, he lifts Riley’s head up. “Almost there.” A pink tongue darts around swollen, red lip that are smiling victoriously at him. “Let me be inside you, babe.”

Watching her move in slow motion from under his heavy eyelids, Sam can’t help but marvel at the subtlety of her movements. It’s not feline, but it’s doesn’t seem human either and when her nipples graze his chest it enhances the yearning for thrusting deep into her. His hands have found her waist to help guide her as she agonizingly slowly gets into position, straddling him and with his saliva-primed member twitching impatiently with the tip between her folds. Riley’s eyes seem to hold the entire universe as they pin him down mentally as well for a second, and he could have been lost in them if she hadn’t thrown the head back the moment she starts lowering herself onto him.

_Gnnn…_ not even his thoughts are coherent. The warm tightness is almost too much, and the slowness allows every bump to feel like a mountain along the shaft and against the frenulum. A dripple of her juices is running down towards his tightening balls with a promise of what’s to come and making the blood pump quicker. The gasped moan that escapes her lips is accompanied by her muscles clenching as she takes him all the way. Both their chests are rising and falling rapidly, and Sam’s fingers are digging into the curves of her hips, but not so tight that she can’t begin a slow grind that brings his cock almost fully out of her core before being sheathed again. Deeply. Abs are working hard. Slowly. Thighs are pressing around his hips. Rolling. Breasts accentuate each breath and movement of the woman, begging to be touched in all the ways Sam can think of.

“Nuhuh, babe,” Riley manages to tell him between her hard breaths and moans, “I’m playing.”

“I want to play too.”

Sitting up, Sam can easily hold her tight while he gets to his feet and carry her to the nearest wall. Strong legs have wrapped around his waist and her nails are digging into his shoulders in the best way when he pins her against the cool paint, freeing a hand to caress her breasts (lifting one to suck greedily on a nipple) by supporting her under the ass. The new position makes Riley clench tighter around his cock, something he’d have thought was impossible.

…

“Give it to me.” The breathy whisper might tickle his ear, but she follows it with slight bites to the earlobe and then the tender spot on the neck.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. One deep thrust takes the other in an increasingly rapid pace, making it hard to hit precisely with the kisses, soft bites, and licks that he lavishes onto her. The new angle sends rolling spasms through Riley’s body, carrying to a new climax. _So close._ She’s not sure exactly what he’s doing, just that his hands are somehow everywhere and then suddenly the pad of his thumb is circling and pressing her clit, sending her over the edge with a broken scream that he silences by kissing her deeply. Feverishly. Their tongues intertwine, and they share breaths as he joins her stuttering, gushing his cum into her in warm waves.

Forehead against sweaty forehead, they stay in the position while they try to catch their breaths. Eventually, Sam has to lift her down, holding on to the woman to support her until her jellified legs want to carry the full weight again. Still with an arm around her, he shows Riley to the shower where he gently takes care of her before wrapping her in a towel, drying himself and ushering her to bed. Pulling her close, he hums satisfied and she can feel the vibrations move from his chest, through her back and into her body.

“I take it you don’t want me to leave yet?” The woman whispers.

Soft kisses grace her neck and shoulder before Sam answers. “Preferably, you should never leave…but I get that might be impractical.”

“Yeah, I do have a job and stuff…” It feels right, lying here with him. Spent and satisfied. “What if I came back or you came to see me?”

“I’d love that, Riley.”

She can hear how he’s getting drowsy. Twisting partially, she can place a slow and deep kiss on his lips that seem stuck in a goofy smile. The last thing she remembers before falling asleep in his arms is realizing that she’s done exactly what she shouldn’t do: fallen in love and initiated a relationship with a superhero… _but it feels so right._


End file.
